


Underbelly

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Neverwhere - Neil Gaiman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-18
Updated: 2006-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 05:09:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1633211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deals in the Underside are delicate things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Underbelly

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really write darkfic, but I did my best. There's not much Islington, as it was difficult to get him out of his cave, but I tried to get him involved as much as I could. I hope it's what you wanted.
> 
> Written for Nightengale

 

 

She was skinning a fresh kill when they came for her. She felt more than heard them come. A hunter has a sense for these things.

She turned, stood, to face them, in the dim light from her small fire. Her hands were slick with mud, blood, and flesh, but her grip on her knife was practised, sure. She readied herself for death. And a fight.

They didn't look like she'd thought they would.

The big, dark one watched her impassively, munching slowly on something. An arm dangled uselessly from his lips. The orange-haired one smiled at her, his teeth as sharp as the knife in his hand. In his other hand he held something long and covered in cloth. Solid-looking. A staff perhaps. Hers was behind her, behind the carcass. No time. No use.

Her muscles tensed as one, gathering strength. Best to let them attack, she knew. Her knife didn't waver. _Jugular_ , she thought calmly. _Left eye_.

"We have a business proposition for you," the orange-haired one said. Smiling.

Her grip did not loosen.

There was a moment of darkness and silence and no attack. Their scent and that of the bleeding animal behind her were almost indistinguishable.

She said, "A... _business_ proposition?"

The words felt strange in her mouth, like this. Knife in her hand. She didn't talk while she hunted. It struck her that they may have been the first words she'd said in a long time. But she asked them _and_ kept hold of her knife, still expecting a strike more than an answer.

The dark-haired one continued to munch. The orange-haired one continued to smile.

"Our employer," the shorter one said, over-enunciating, "wants a young girl killed, but wants her alive until then. He - and we - thought you would be best suited to the job."

"I don't murder little girls," she said. Her eyes didn't move from them.

"Yes, he thought you might say something like that. So he told me to bring you this." And he casually pulled back the cloth with his knife hand.

Suddenly neither of them mattered.

It was everything, everything, everything she'd imagined it would and nothing like it, the bronze metal glinting in the dim light, the decorations half-visible and ghastly, the blade curving almost out of sight into the shadows. She _swayed_ towards it, without moving. It was there. There. Here. And suddenly she was already in the labyrinth, feet sticking in the mud, back bent low, her hands wrapped around the shaft, hunting the Beast.

She pulled herself back, looked up at their faces. The orange-haired one was still smiling. She could tell that he was afraid of the Beast - even _him_. And she was not.

She had long ago accepted such things.

She looked back down at the spear.

"What girl?"

The smile, more visible than his eyes, flashed like a turning blade.

"The Lady Door," he said. Relishing the words - more than the thought of the Beast. "Of the House of Arch. Last of the line."

"Recently _become_ the last," said the big one added. His expression didn't change.

She swallowed. Then looked down at the spear, and took a step forward.

"Ah, ah, ah." He covered the spear again. "This is a payment, not a bribe. You'll have it when the job is done. If you agree, of course. In the meantime, we've terribly rude."

He gestured at the dead meat behind her.

"We interrupted you. Please - continue. While we talk."

She hesitated for a split second, hand tightening reflexively on the knife, and narrowed her eyes at him. At them.

His smile never faltered.

"If you're worried about turning your back on us -" he began.

She felt the huge presence behind her before he spoke.

" - It's not like you have a choice," calmly, into her ear.

* * *

The knife slid easily through the skin of the unmoving beast. She still hadn't entirely identified it. It was unthinking work, for her. The two of them were hovering in and out of the shadows, watching her. Silent. There wasn't much she could do if they decided to attack. So she did what they'd suggested. The work at hand.

Something skittered in the darkness, and she glanced up, just before the faint twang of metal sticking in something solid. Nearly silent footsteps trotted off into the darkness- she felt the shadows moving to get out of his way.

The orange-haired one was halfway in the light again, eyes and teeth glinting.

"You enjoy the part before they die," he said, almost conversationally. What he probably thought was `almost conversationally'. His eyes flashed. "I myself prefer the _killing_. And my associate - rather likes the part where they're dead."

A faint, wet sound of agreement floated out of the darkness.

She tugged the knife through flesh, unmoved.

"And our employer?" she asked, calmly.

She hadn't asked, of course. But there were only so many people in the Underside that could have had the spear to offer to her. Fewer still that would have dared move against the House of Arch. Anyone who'd been around London Below long enough knew about _him_. And they had been around perhaps the longest.

She imagined that his plans went beyond killing a young girl, even a family. And with these two in his employ, it was doubtful he was on the still on the side of good. Whatever his lineage.

The orange-haired one smiled sharply at her.

"He prefers _overseeing_ things, I think."

She had a sudden vision of a world turning, collapsing, buildings burning, waters rising, everything falling, and a pair of luminescent eyes watching, glorying, over it all.

But he was offering her the spear.

A moment of darkness, and the sound of tearing flesh.

"It's not just the spear you'll win if you agree, you know," the orange-haired one continued, keeping up his pretence at conversation. From the darkness now. "There's also his favour. An honoured place in his new world. Imagine -"

Relishing the words, again. Trying to make her listen.

"- Being able to hunt _anything_."

Words designed to make her think all those dark thoughts she thought, occasionally, in silent moments. After a kill. Anything. Anything she asked for. All the beasts turned loose on the world, and her hunting them even as they hunted others. Worse; the Underside made Upside, and everyone running together. No more hierarchies. No more truces.

All the people who'd ever hired her. The Sisters. Serpentine, even. And the _girls_...

Once again, it was a simple act of will to come back to herself. She didn't want anything. She wanted the Beast.

She looked up at the orange-haired one, half in the light now, her hands still skinning.

"Is that what he's offering _you_?" she asked.

Close, the smile had the effect of making his eyes appear bottomless.

"You don't want know what he's paying _us_ ," he said.

She felt the vague urge to shudder, and dismissed it. She looked back down at her meat.

Silence. The constant drip, drip of water you heard anywhere on the Underside.

"Incidentally-" he said. More briskly now. Matter-of-fact. "Since we have the spear, and nothing can stand against it, you really have _no_ chance of surviving, if you refuse."

She didn't look up.

"I'm not afraid of dying."

"Perhaps not...but dying with unfinished business..."

She gripped the knife a little more tightly, and did not look up.

A faint, regular crunching came from a little way off in the darkness.

He was smiling down at her. Still, now.

"You don't even have to do the killing," he said. Mock-reassuringly. "Just - keep her alive, till we come for her. The same as you used to do."

`Once' was unspoken.

The crunching came slowly closer.

The smile sharpened imperceptibly. The dark one became a vague, solid shadow at his back.

He stared down at her.

"Do we have a deal?" he asked.

She put down the bloody knife, though blood remained on her hands. She looked up at him. They'd had a deal, of course, since he showed her the spear.

She danced with Beasts all the time.

"We heard you had honour once," he said. "That's why I ask."

She knew then why they'd stayed around so long. They liked to hurt people.

"Yes," she said.

The smile was like a slash across his face.

"Excellent." He was grotesque in his pleasure, eyes greedily scanning her face. The dark one was as impassive as ever. He glanced occasionally at the carcass behind her.

"She'll be at the market in two days time," the orange-haired one told her, "looking for a bodyguard. You can kill a few people, to prove you're the best. Then protect her to the very _utmost_ of your ability. Unless we tell you not to. There's no-one else helping her. At least, no-one who _can_ help her. The Marquis de Carabas is with her, but we can take care of him. Hmm. Who else?"

"The Upworlder." The big one's voice was deep, but it carried from the shadows.

"I don't go Above," she said, calmly.

"You won't have to," the orange-haired one replied dismissively. "We'll kill the Upworlder. If he's _still_ an Upworlder, of course."

"Grind his bones," the big one said.

"Tear him up," the other agreed. "You won't have to deal with him. Just take care of the girl. And _this_ -"

He gave the spear enough of a flourish that her eyes flew to it, and stayed there.

"- Will be yours."

He smiled, white and sharp. Worse than the darkness. One last time. And then they were gone.

* * *

She finished skinning the animal, ate, slept, and then made her way to London Below. She wasn't very good with lying, but few people ever expected her to speak. She made kills as she travelled, and let the vision of one great one draw her onwards.

Close to the city she met a dark-haired young man, and knew exactly who he was from the start. Almost clean clothes; wide disbelieving eyes; that curious expectation that no-one would hurt him. She saved his life three times, and never knew if it was cruelty or kindness.

Under her skin she felt the steady thrum of the hunt, and knew the Beast was waiting.

 


End file.
